


I feel my breath pull in (I am, I am, I am)

by RedWritingHood



Series: This is all all all that is real [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, ghost - Freeform, hallucination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWritingHood/pseuds/RedWritingHood
Summary: Bruce keeps seeing Jason after his death.





	I feel my breath pull in (I am, I am, I am)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written quite a while ago, so that probably accounts for the difference in writing style compared to more recent fics.

"Hey, Bruce. You should get some sleep."

At the sound of the voice, Bruce feels his shoulders tighten, muscles tensing even further than they already had, and his concentration breaks apart like glass shattering upon the ground.

A hand, light as a feather, touches his arm with a softness that belies what Bruce has known of him, and he takes in a breath that seems to catch in his lungs, tangle inside his chest.

There's a smile in that voice when it speaks, now. "Come on. It's been so long since you last slept, probably don't even remember my name."

As if he could ever forget. 

He lowers his head. "Jason," he says, quietly.

"Hey, look at that," the child says. "Maybe you're not as sleep-deprived as I think you are." Then he pauses, grins. "Or maybe you're just as stubborn as I know you are."

Bruce looks at him, he can't. He can't stop himself. "You're not real," he says. The tangled thing in his chest makes it difficult to get the words out.

"That hurts," Jason says, unmoved. He's heard it before. "See, you wouldn't be doubting your own sanity if you got a few hours of rest. Gotta take care of yourself, B."

"But I," Bruce says. _I couldn't take care of_ you.

"Oh, Bruce," Jason says, and there's something both exasperated and-- tender, in his voice. "You think too much. Go upstairs. Go to bed. Those cases can wait until tomorrow. Hell, they could wait for a few days, but you. Workaholic. Wouldn't be able to stand leaving them for that long."

Numbly, too tired-- too _fractured_ \-- to care that he's listening to the advice of a ghost, Bruce obeys, nudging the case files away and getting to his feet. Jason pushes against his shoulder, the pressure barely noticeable. Bone-deep coldness spreads from the point of contact, but Bruce just. Can't bring himself to pull away. 

Can't bring himself to care that it hurts.

He lets Jason guide him up the stairs and towards his room, lets the child coax him into removing the armor of the Batman and pulling on something more comfortable, more human. 

Jason bullies him into the bed, as gently as he is capable of. "You expecting me to tuck you in?" he asks, smoothing the blanket where it lays over Bruce's heart. Frost seeps from his fingers, and Bruce doesn't move away. "I'll do it, don't think I won't."

"I know you would," Bruce tells him, because that is exactly the kind of thing Jason would do, with extreme prejudice. Then he says, "I don't expect. I'm not expecting anything of you, Jason. You-- you're--"

"--Not real," Jason finishes for him, and smiles at him like he can't help himself. "You can never make things simple, can you?"

"A psychological breakdown is simple?" Bruce asks, before he can stop himself.

Jason breaks into a grin. "Hell of a lot simpler than the alternative, right?"

Bruce can't-- can't dwell on the alternative, if he wants to remain sane, or as sane as he possibly can be, under these circumstances. He stays silent.

Jason doesn't appear to mind. He lifts his hand, lets it rest on Bruce's hair. "Get some sleep, okay? You've been looking kind of pale lately. More than usual, I mean. Someone's gonna mistake you for a vampire if this keeps up, and then what? People will start carrying crosses and wearing garlic like they're necklaces or something. Bribing priests for holy water. Bringing stakes with them to work. Chaos, chaos everywhere."

Bruce's lips tilt upwards into a small smile, somewhat awkward, slightly unfamiliar. Brittle. Genuine. It's almost painful.

"There," Jason says, pleased. "See? Knew you could make an expression like that. Oh, don't stop-- you could do with smiling more often. Was starting to think you'd broken your face."

 _Something is broken_ , Bruce doesn't say. _I don't think it can be fixed_.

"Hey, Bruce," Jason says, and grins when Bruce looks up at him. He winks. "Dream of me."

Bruce knows that he will.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Ghost? Hallucination?
> 
> Title is from the song Sway by Jessie Siren.


End file.
